through the course of my imagination, i'm not much of a visual person. when my friends indulged themselves in tintin and disney, i read famous five and sidney sheldon. those from my class graduated with distinction due to their exceptional artworks, i owed it more to my thesis in humanities and liberal arts. although i started out as an art director in my advertising days, my remarkable projects were based on a music or phraseological presentation. i didn't collect paintings—i disliked—like most of my fellow tete-a-tete townsman.
in the year 2000ish i came across a list—collector’s choice of rare books for collecting, which then led me to the 100 best books lists by modern library, readers and the rivals. it was my ambition then to not only collect, but also read every single
title on the ibca list. i thought i did quite well for the next couple of
years, until i got distracted by other lists, amazon, catholicism, and
of course harry potter, chic-lit, crafts, odd and ends. then other
preoccupation such as passion, obsession, compassion rudely interrupted,
and books are completely abandoned in piles, carts and lists.
i haven't read a single book in the past few years, but there was time when i read 4,000 pages of literature in a week and filled up a whole blank journal books with notes and conceptions. it's a huge accomplishment considering my short concentration span (and don't let me start theorizing it).
for the pass 3 years i could barely pass the first page of unbearable lightness of being; but i will pick it up again.
meanwhile, i'm happy jotting down little things. like most of us, tada...i'm smashing!
does anyone recognize the words? :)
i usually start with the inside spreads when i'm building a book/album. as i always said, the cover will build up on it's own. here i am starting from the cover. perhaps tonight i'll go pick some brain lint and start a couple of pages.